Geoducks Are for Lovers (37 page)

“I’m free this weekend,” Maggie whispers. “Why am I whispering?”

She thinks about what she should do for about three seconds before making her decision. This isn’t about relying on safety nets and excuses. This is about going after what her heart wants now.

Looking at the clock, she realizes it is seven after four. If she hurries, she can make the 4:30 boat. Ten minutes to repack and race down to the dock. No line, and she might make it. 

Maggie snatches her already-packed bag, runs upstairs, and starts throwing work appropriate clothes on the bed. From her closet she grabs her favorite navy hoodie, a pair of jeans, and a stack of T-shirts. The little black dress and jacket for the dinner tomorrow night stays in the bag. She’s wearing a white oxford, jeans and olive green Toms. She can travel in this. Clothes and shoes are tossed back into the canvas tote. 

Biscuit sits in the hall watching the frenzy. She almost trips over him when she hurries back downstairs with her stuff. Shit. Biscuit. 

She decides to bring him with her. Pulling another boat tote out of the closet, she stuffs his leash and food into the bag. Biscuit bounces around her feet in excitement. 

“Yes, we’re going someplace. Someplace we’ve never been before. Exciting stuff.” He jumps up in front of her. “Ready?” 

He barks.

She walks around checking doors and windows are locked. Satisfied the house is secure, she glances at the clock. 4:16. She still might make the next ferry.

Whistling for Biscuit, she opens the garage door. While she puts her bags and his folding travel crate in the trunk, Biscuit jumps into the passenger seat through the open door. 

After securing his harness, she backs out of the driveway, barely missing John’s truck.

He looks at her like she’s gone insane.

“Change of plans. No Biscuit. Geoducks,” she shouts, leaning out the window as she peels out and speeds down the beach road.

John has no idea what she said, but swears it was something about geoducks. He waves and shakes his head at his crazy neighbor.

The drive to the ferry dock is a blur. When she finally heads down the hill, she sees the last few cars on the dock being loaded on the ferry.

“Shit,” she curses, knowing she’ll have to wait at least a half hour for the next boat. 

She tosses a ticket at the ticket booth operator just as the safety arm lowers at the end of the dock.

“Looks like you barely missed this one,” the woman in the booth tells Maggie. “Lane one.”

Sighing, Maggie grumbles her thanks and shifts Bessie into gear to pull into the first spot in line. 

“When you finally make up your mind about doing something, you don’t want to wait a minute longer than you have to,” she explains to Biscuit, who sighs in agreement. She smiles at him and gives him a scratch on his head. After putting the car in neutral, she’s about to turn the key off when movement on the dock catches her eye.

Turning her head forward, she sees the safety arm being lifted and Bert frantically waving her forward on to the ferry.

She puts Bessie back in gear and drives ahead. Biscuit barks his approval.

“Hiya,” Bert greets her, walking alongside the car as she drives slowly down the ramp.

“Noticed a flash of green racing down the hill as we were loading up. Realized it was you and Bessie, and figured this was an important trip. You’re lucky you have such a tiny car. Never could squeeze you on if you were in your other car.” Bert smiles his gap-toothed grin at her. 

“You have no idea, Bert. I owe you big time.”

He guides Bessie into the smallest spot ever at the end of the deck—a regular size car would never fit. The engines roar to life as the lines holding the ferry to the dock are pulled in and coiled on the deck. 

“Second time in about a month you’re taking this car off the island. You becoming a commuter?” He teases.

“Nah, going on a very important trip, Bert. Most important trip ever. Did you know geoducks are for lovers?” Maggie grins at him. 

Bert gapes at her. 

She wonders what Connie will make of that gossip and hopes Sally figures out the code.

Feeling in her pocket, she pulls the heart shape wishing rock from her hoodie, and places it on the middle of Bessie’s dashboard next to Gil’s rock. Hope and faith. Trust.

Rather than go up on deck, she sits in the car on the short crossing. Biscuit curls up on his seat and snoozes.

She sends a text. 

*I believe in the power of Buddha’s army.*

Picking up the hope and faith rock, she decides the time for hoarding wishes is over. At the back of the boat, she kisses the rock one last time before throwing it as far as she can. It makes a small splash and is swallowed into the churning water behind the ferry. Smiling, she watches the island recede behind her as the wind off the water tangles her hair. The afternoon sun creates a halo over the far shore, casting it in shadow, while shining bright in her eyes. 

Her phone chirps with a new text.

*Confused.*

She grins and sends a reply.

*It will all make sense in a few hours.*

When the ferry docks, she waves to Bert before pulling off the boat. She’s the last car off this time. Better late than never she thinks, driving up the hill before catching the freeway heading south toward Olympia to meet up with her past, present and future.

* * *

A car pulls out of a parking spot right across from the Northern art space in downtown Olympia. Maggie maneuvers Bessie into the spot, congratulating herself on her talent for parallel parking. She’ll take her own praise. She’s not nervous to see Gil, no, nervous isn’t the right word. Her heartbeat flutters. This is it. This is the moment.

After getting out of the car, she smooths down her black sheath dress and straightens her jacket. After swearing Jo to secrecy, Jo left her a key to the house. Biscuit set up, clothes changed, and pep talk given to herself, she is arriving only an hour behind everyone else to the party.

Better late than never.

The art and music space is teaming with hip and not-so-hip forty-somethings, who spill out the front door on the sidewalk. She notices a small cluster of people outside smoking, but no Selah. Good. The first person she wants to see is Gil.

After wandering inside, she checks out people’s backs, tops of heads, and profiles while picking a careful path around clusters of people who look mostly unfamiliar.

Still no Gil. 

She finds herself in front of a makeshift bar table and grabs a plastic glass of red wine. The crowd is thicker around the bar, so she moves to the opposite wall. From her new vantage point, she can view the back of the room. Standing in a group of men with his back to her is the man she loves.

Gil.

At first she doesn’t recognize anyone in the group other than Gil. A bald man with a middle age paunch facing her looks somewhat familiar. Trying to place him, she realizes it is the lead singer from Gil’s college band. Mark Jones has not aged well. Selah will be disappointed.

Maggie watches Gil look in her direction, then turn back to his conversation. Did he not see her? She realizes she’s surrounded by taller men and women in teetering heels.

Now that she’s spied Gil, Maggie has a clear path to him. The crowd parts, a few steps more, and Gil is standing in front of her, his mouth open, and his expression shocked. 

Time slows and the room quiets as she takes the few final steps toward him.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Buddha’s army?” He smiles at her.

“Buddha’s army. Yep. I guess Quinn has some major pull with the universe.”

“But what happened to your big dinner? Big dinner, big article? Vancouver?” He shakes his head.

“Turns out everyone has food poisoning. Bad mushroom or a bad clam. Terrible.”

“Terrible,” he says, looking into her eyes.

“So I had the weekend free. No plans. No one expecting me anywhere for anything. Thought I’d come find you.”

“You found me.” He stares at her. “I can’t believe you’re standing in front of me.”

“I am and I have something I wanted to give you.” She puts her glass down. Reaching into her jacket pocket, she pulls out the heart shaped wishing rock she found on his pillow. “You gave me hope and faith before you left the island. I wanted to return the favor.” She hands him the rock.

“You’re giving me a rock? One of your hoarded wishes?” He stares at the rock in his hand and smiles.

“I’m giving you my trust. I’m giving you my heart, Gil Morrow. I love you.” 

Gil blinks a few times. 

She steps forward, laces their fingers together, then reaches up to place a soft kiss on his mouth.

He pulls back from her lips, staring in her eyes.

“You just told me you love me. Out loud and everything. You love me.” 

“I did. I do. I do love you. I loved you when you had long hair and all your clothes came from thrift stores. I loved you when you had no game and horrible glasses. I’ve loved you forever, Gil.”

He smiles with watery eyes. “And it only took us twenty-two years to get to this moment.” He lets go of her hands to pick her up and hug her. She squeals a little before finding his mouth with hers. She kisses him, forgetting everything but Gil.

A familiar scream breaks them out of their bubble. 

“Sounds like Quinn has spotted you.” Gil laughs, slowly returning her feet to the ground.

“I was hoping we’d be able to stay in our bubble for a little while longer.” Maggie straightens her dress. “You have lipstick on your bottom lip.” She gestures to his mouth.

He wipes it off with his thumb. “Thanks. Doesn’t matter. I think everyone in the room saw our kiss.” He turns her to face their friends.

Blushing, she smiles at the happy faces of the people she loves most in the world. Taking Gil’s hand, she walks over to them and is engulfed in hugs.

She’s exactly where she’s supposed to be.

~The End~

Acknowledgements

I am grateful to all who have supported my writing. With special thanks:

To my mother, who instilled in me a love of reading, and my father, who is a natural storyteller. And to my husband, without whom this book would be just another idea stuck in my head.

For those who have been my friends for years and decades, your friendships inspired the close connections in this book.

To Becca, Dawn, Kellie, Kelly, Marla, Mary, Nicole, and Suzie, who were brave enough to beta-read early drafts of this, and gave me the honest feedback and the support I needed to make it better. And to Catherine, who polished my words and fixed my crimes against punctuation.

To the Lost Girls, who are the sisters I always wanted, and Jack, for being the ultimate fanboy. 

For the women of the ‘online book club’ I stumbled upon nearly four years ago and who are the biggest cheerleaders for good writing and following your dreams. Thank you especially to the Bunker Babes for their friendship.

For my family, who may not always understand me, but love and support me.

To my island family and the people of Whidbey Island, for welcoming me into the fold years ago. Many of the places used in this book are real, others no longer exist, and some are made up because I wish they did. 

To The Evergreen State College, an incredible, unique college that has the best motto and mascot ever.

Thanks to National Novel Writing Month for being the enemy of procrastination and giving me a goal to get this book off the ground.

Last, but certainly never least, thank you to the readers, bloggers, and reviewers who took a chance on this book. Thanks for reading!

About the Author

Before writing full time, Daisy Prescott worked in the world of art, auctions, antiques, and home decor. She earned a degree in Art History from Mills College and endured a brief stint as a film theory graduate student at Tisch School of the Arts at NYU. Baker, art educator, antiques dealer, blue ribbon pie-maker, fangirl, content manager, freelance writer, gardener, wife, and pet mom are a few of the other titles she’s acquired over the years.